A Chance for Us (Willow Creek Valley Book 4) Page 16

  “I’m sure Maren truly appreciates it,” I say, not wanting to elaborate.

  “I’ll let you two get back to your honeymoon. Have fun.”

  “We will, and we’re both glad you’re home and feeling well.”

  I hand the phone back to her so she can say goodbye before we climb back into the golf cart. “He sounds good.”

  “He does.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “That we’d enjoy the farm.”

  Maren looks at me, her lower lip clenched between her teeth. “Will you go there with me?”

  “To the farm?”

  I know that’s what she means, but I’m stalling to think through this. Maren and I aren’t a real couple. She doesn’t love me or want to be with me. I was an available Oliver and a friend, nothing more. Yes, we’re sort of married and having lots of sex, but I want to keep any emotions in a box so when she walks away, no one is hurt.

  I need to avoid being fucking hurt again.

  She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I think it would be fun. You could see it, and we could maybe spend a day or two there. It’s been forever, and . . .”

  “I’ll probably be really busy with the resort since we officially open fully in three weeks. I’m not sure about the time I have.”

  “Of course,” she says quickly. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

  I feel like a complete asshole. “It’s fine, maybe we can do it before the resort opens.”

  She turns, her face lighting up before she throws herself at me. “Really? Oh, Oliver, thank you! You are too amazing.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  It’s everything.

  “There isn’t a single thing about you or what has happened that is nothing. It means a lot that I’ll get to go there with you.”

  Don’t let that sink in. Don’t let it become more.

  “I’m happy that you feel that way.”

  Maren kisses my cheek. “Let’s get lunch, and then”—her voice grows husky—“I can thank you in other ways.”

  I throw the golf cart into drive and head to the bar, looking forward to the “other ways” she has in mind.

  “Are you all right?” Maren asks as she hands me a glass of ginger ale.

  “I’m fine. I think it was the food.”

  She chuckles. “You barely ate.”

  I was incredibly impatient at lunch. I had maybe a bite or two of my food and three beers, but when we got back and I was ready for naked Maren time, my stomach revolted. I ended up taking a long nap and waking up around dinner time, feeling a hundred percent better. However, she’s being a mother hen and won’t let me off the couch until she’s convinced I’m fine.

  “I ate a little.”

  She hands me a cracker. “Not enough to soak up the beer. Now, just rest, and we’ll find something else to do tonight.”

  “I’d like to be doing you.”

  “I would like that too, but . . .”

  “But?”

  “You’re sick.”

  I roll my eyes. “I am not sick. I got sick, which isn’t the same. I’m perfectly fine now.”

  I grab her, pulling her to my chest. “Oliver!”

  “See, sick men can’t do that.”

  “I think men who want sex can move mountains.”

  She’s not wrong.

  “How about we go relax in the hot tub?” Maren in a bathing suit—or even naked—would be a good evening.

  “Are you sure your stomach is fine?” she asks.

  “Maren, I’m a grown ass man. I got sick a few times, napped it off, and I’m good. It was probably food poisoning or something stupid.”

  “Okay. If you’re fine, then we’ll do that. I’ll go turn it on while you get changed.”

  Since we’re at the very end of the season, everything is quiet. It’s almost like being on a private beach. I grab my bathing suit, opt against it, and wrap myself in a towel. As I’m heading down the stairs, Maren ducks into one of the five bathrooms.

  “I’ll meet you down there after I get changed.”

  “Okay. Feel free to come down naked,” I offer.

  When I get outside, I look around, making sure none of the neighbors can see this area. Since the house is on stilts, the hot tub is under the house and has a privacy wall on three sides. The only way someone could see us is if they were on the beach or standing on the dunes. This will be perfect.

  I sink into the hot water, feeling the stress melt away, and leaning my head back, I close my eyes, and relax. It’s been a crazy few months, and these last two weeks have been fucking insane. I never thought I would pretend to marry someone only to end up actually married to the girl who flipped my life around.

  But here I am, falling for my wife even though I want no part of it.

  I don’t want to like her. I don’t want to see how beautiful, smart, and loving she is, but then she does stuff like take care of me while I’m sick or go out of her way to make her father happy, and I can’t help it.

  There are no answers here. Maren and I won’t be anything, and trying to think otherwise is foolish. I’ve done that before, and I will not go down that road again. So, I’ll allow myself to lust after her, have as much sex as possible, and then go back to my simple life.

  “Well, don’t you look comfortable?” Maren’s voice is beside me, her hand sliding against my arm.

  Instantly, I’m hard.

  This woman is going to be the death of me.

  “I’m something, all right, but comfortable isn’t the case any longer.”

  She presses to my side, the water barely covering her breasts. Yes, she’s naked. “I’m sorry to hear that. What can I do to make it better?”

  I love how playful she is.

  “How about you come a little closer.”

  “Like this?”

  She scoots a little closer, but her hand wraps around my cock.

  “That is a good start.”

  “I agree.” Her hand moves up and down slowly.

  “I thought you were worried I was sick.”

  “I thought you said you were a grown man and were fine?”

  I am more than fine. I’m on fire and need her more than ever. “I’m not sick.”

  “Good.” Her voice is soft. “I want you, Oliver.”

  “I want you.”

  “However,” she says coyly. “We’re not having sex.”

  Well, that’s not going to work for me. “And why not?”

  “Because whether you’re grown or not, you were sick, and as your wife, whether it’s real or not, it’s my job to care for you.”

  I grip her waist, hauling her on top of me so her legs straddle my hips. “I think it’s also my job to do the same.” I cup her breasts.

  Maren’s eyes flutter, and a soft moan escapes her lips as I rub my thumbs over her nipples. She shudders as her fingers wrap around my wrists.

  “No, not this time.” She shifts my arms so they are resting along the back of the tub. “Stay that way.”

  I’m not usually one who likes not to have control during sex, but the way she’s looking at me—a little hesitant, a little hopeful—causes me to nod. I’ll see where she wants this to go. All roads lead to happiness with the way she’s licking her plump lips.

  Maren grins. “Don’t move.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I stop.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I promise. My fingers grip the sides so I have something to hold on to. I have a feeling this is going to be equal parts heaven and hell.

  She leans in, pressing her lips to mine for a brief kiss. “Good, I plan to do mine.” Her fingers wrap around my cock again as she pumps in a steady rhythm. “I want you to rest and let me do all the work.”

  “I won’t move.” She keeps going, pumping me harder, faster as her lips move down my neck. “I want to see you.”

  “See me?”

  “Lift up so I can stare at your perfect breasts.” Maren does as I ask, and I can
’t stop the small smile that forms because she gave me back the control of the situation without realizing it. I want to see if she’ll give me more. “Let me kiss them.”

  Her eyes widen a little, and she sinks back down. “No.”

  “You said you wanted to take care of me, this is what I need.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I let go of the back of the tub, and her hand releases instantly. “Maren . . .”

  “Don’t. Move.”

  As soon as I’m positioned again, she resumes jerking me off.

  “I keep waiting for this yearning to stop, but the longer I’m around you, the more I want you,” she confesses. “You make me feel beautiful, powerful, and cherished.”

  “You are those things,” I say, and my grip tightens. This feels so fucking good. “You’re more than that too.”

  “Kiss me,” Maren commands.

  I lean forward, wanting her mouth, wanting her, and we collide. I no longer hold the back of the tub, and I have her face in my grasp. I kiss her deeply, letting our tongues slide together as we both gasp. If all I’m allowed to do is this, then I’m going to make it the best kiss she’s ever had. I play with her, retreating when she tries to go forward and overpowering her when she relents. I nip at her lip, pulling it between my teeth and then kissing it. Over and over, we do this dance, all while her hand pumps my cock.

  “I need you,” I tell her.

  She moves her lips to my ear. “Sit up on the edge. I need something more.”

  “Sweetheart, not like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Where some asshole might be looking at you, seeing how fucking perfect you are, how beautiful you look without any clothes on.”

  While I know we have privacy, there’s no way I want anyone else to watch this.

  Maren stands, water sliding down her beautiful body. “No one will see.” She moves over to the buttons and turns off the lights in the hot tub. It’s completely dark as her finger slides down my chest. “Sit up on the ledge and let me suck your dick.”

  I do as she asks, and as she takes me deep in her throat, I decide that married life isn’t bad at all.

  Twenty-One

  MAREN

  Tonight is our last night. First thing in the morning, we head back to Willow Creek Valley and then I drive back to Virginia Beach. It’s been an amazing and much needed few days of relaxation. We’ve laughed, watched movies, had more sex than two humans probably should, and honestly, I’m insanely happy.

  Oliver is . . . well, I like him. I like him a lot. I am falling so hard for him, and I don’t know what to do about it.

  I know the rules, and it’s fine because I want the same thing he does—nothing. Only I want him and that’s crazy.

  Since keeping him isn’t an option, I refuse to think about it and resolve myself to the plan I started with.

  Denial of all feelings.

  I smooth my hands over my black dress, shifting it into place. My hair falls in beach waves that brush the middle of my back, and my makeup looks soft but alluring. I look good, if I do say so myself.

  I sit on the bed, slipping my heels on and buckling the clasp on the ankle. Stella and Devney may be assholes for the lack of sleeping attire, but they did a good job with these shoes.

  I pick up my phone to send Devney a quick text.

  Me: I’m still mad about the repack, but thanks for the heels.

  Devney: That was Stella. I almost cried when I saw her shoe collection. There were literally hundreds of pairs all neatly aligned. It was magical. I’m jealous you two are the same size.

  I laugh as I imagine Devney drooling over rows of shoes.

  Me: Sounds fun.

  Devney: It was. How are things with Oliver?

  I know she’s over him and he’s over her, but it’s . . . odd. I’m not sure what is off limits to talk about or if it’s fair to Oliver. I’ll stick to vague and friendly.

  Me: We’re having a great time. It was much needed for us both.

  The three dots appear, dancing on my messages, but then stop. Then start. Then stop again before a text appears.

  Devney: Is this . . . odd for you?

  Me: Yes.

  Devney: I am not upset. I want you to know that. Sean and I talked a lot about this, and I’m truly happy for you both. I honestly wish you guys would give it a real shot.

  I do too. I just won’t allow myself to hope.

  Me: We know what this is. It’s only odd because we both have . . . you know.

  Devney: Seen his penis?

  I start laughing.

  Me: That.

  Devney: Well, at least it’s a good one, and I’m not sending you apologies.

  Me: Oh dear God. I’m going to dinner now. I’ll be home tomorrow, so we can catch up then. I need to see if I have to murder my boss and find a divorce attorney or if I can tell Oliver we’re all good.

  Devney: Good luck and have fun tonight.

  I put the phone in my purse and stand, feeling like a newborn calf that hasn’t found its legs yet. I teeter and then right myself as I head downstairs.

  Ollie is standing by the windows, looking out at the ocean that’s invisible in the inky darkness. His broad shoulders, which carry everyone’s burdens, are covered in a navy-blue suit. His dark brown hair is slicked back as if he ran his hands through it and it stayed. I lean against the wall, looking at him, wondering what my life is going to be like once I no longer see him like this.

  Will we be friends?

  Will we talk?

  Will he come to my father’s funeral? My mother’s farm?

  Do I need him?

  He turns. His blue eyes go a little wide before he grins. “You look stunning.”

  “You do as well.”

  Oliver walks to me and brushes a piece of hair off my face. “Our first last date.”

  My heart flutters at the date part, but then I register he said last. I force a smile, hoping it appears real enough. “It is.”

  “Kind of crazy our first date was our wedding.”

  I laugh. “Well, maybe the rehearsal.”

  “That’s true.” Oliver looks away and then back to me. “I’ve had a great time with you. Not the sex, well, not only the sex. It’s been more than I ever thought it could be. In another time . . . maybe we could’ve . . .”

  Tell him, Maren. Tell him how you feel. Tell him it doesn’t have to be the last date. Tell him you want to go on another date.

  I don’t tell him because what I hear next in my head is a reminder of another rejection that would come my way.

  “I’m glad that we both feel the same,” I say. “If we had felt this way in college, who knows, but now we have our lives and priorities.”

  His lips mash together, and he nods. “And, tomorrow, we’ll return to them. But tonight, let’s forget they exist.”

  I adjust his tie, mostly because I just can’t look at him. I’m not strong enough to gaze into his eyes and keep this part of the lie. My heart is calling out to him when there’s no chance for us.

  We are only meant to be this.

  “I like that plan.”

  “I hoped you would, being the planner you are.”

  I nod, not trusting my voice, and let him take my hand and lead me outside. Oliver opens my car door and then climbs in next to me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask. He said he wanted to surprise me for our last night, and I was supposed to wear something formal.

  “You’ll see once we get there.”

  “You know I hate surprises.”

  Ollie laughs. “I figured since you love plans so much.”

  I’ve always hated them, since I was a kid. Maybe it’s because every time I’ve been taken off guard, a tragedy happened. My mother dying, a colleague being shot, losing someone we’d been trailing and having it result in someone being hurt. It’s never been a good thing.

  Now I’m forced to sit and watch the scenery without making myself crazy with wonder.

>   “You’re fidgeting,” Oliver points out.

  “I don’t like being completely unaware of what I’m doing.”

  “Are you worried I might be taking you somewhere to kill you?”

  I raise a brow. “Is that a possibility?”

  “Depends.”

  “On?”

  He grins. “On if you stop fidgeting and just trust me or not.”

  I lean my head back, looking at him. “Trust isn’t something I usually give easily.”

  “I’m not all that great at it either.”

  He is better at it than he thinks.

  “Could’ve fooled me. We had to trust everyone who knew the secret the last two weeks.”

  Oliver glances at me. “Those were my siblings. I would trust them with my life.”

  Which is maybe why I was able to as well. I shift again, looking out the window and spinning the wedding ring on my finger. My nerves are trifold. I have no idea where we’re going, I don’t know what I’m feeling, and I don’t know how to plan for heartache.

  This is the end. The last night before we walk away from what has been the best weeks of my life. I don’t want that.

  I want more.

  I want it all.

  I want him.

  He takes my hand. “We’re almost there. I promise, I want tonight to be fun and also special.”

  “Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  “Why what?”

  “What does it matter if it’s special? Tonight is the end.”

  We’re stopped at a red light so he turns to look at me. “The end doesn’t mean it has to be bad. We’re friends, Maren, we always will be. I like to think that, after all we’ve gone through, we can at least have a happy ending.”

  Tears start to prick at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. This isn’t a happy ending. This is horrible. This is not what I want, but it’s what he wants.